Blue Baboon

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

Blue Baboon

By Plot Roach

She stared at the picture of the blue baboon on the wall. It was in a lineup with other, more natural toned, members of its own kind. It was a poster with the caution: which one of these things doesn’t belong here? It was an inner office ad for workers who were not performing their duties. A not so subtle reminder that one was always being watched and to not stand out from the crowd.

Melissa waited for her turn to be summoned into the office. She was being called in for her yearly performance review, as was a third of the office. Rumor had it that they needed to cut back on staff in order to stay on budget, she wondered if the interview would really give her the chance to defend her worth to this company, or if it was just a legality that the company had to perform before they could fire what they considered dead weight.

I so don’t deserve this, she thought. I know no one likes me here, but why not just transfer me? I do my job well. I keep my head down and don’t add to the gossip mill. I even came up with new ways to make the system better. Why would they do this now?

She was busy thinking of all the things that could go wrong during the interview. She could crack a joke and the interviewer could become offended. She could not know the answer to what they asked, and end up looking like a fool. God help me if I fart, she thought. Maybe an enchilada wasn’t such a good choice for lunch. The more she worried, the more certain she was that hers would be the next head on the chopping block.

She mentally listed all of her assets and all of her expenses. If I move into a smaller place, she thought, or take in a roommate, I might be able to make rent. If I commute to work via carpool or take the bus, that will be another bill I can bring down to minimum. On and on things she deemed frivolous expenses, like cable and the daily latté, were numbered among the things to skip until a new job could be had.

If they fire me on good terms I can collect unemployment, though it will take at least two weeks to get to me. I wonder if I can blow the interview in such a way that they will HAVE to fire me, she thought. Nothing that is illegal or unsanitary… Jut something that is weird enough that they have to think twice to keep me in the company. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that if she was about to be fired, this would be the way to go. If I act weird enough I can always claim that they were prejudiced against me and maybe file a lawsuit against them…

A few minutes later she was called into the office. Three very tense men and one woman sat opposite her at a very long table. Melissa took her seat, after dusting it off with a handkerchief. Let the games begin, she told herself.

“Melissa Winnepo?” Asked a man who sat in the center of the interviewers.

“That’s my cubicle slave-name. I call myself ‘the Princess of Paperclips and Office Supplies’.”

“Uh…Very Well. Can I call you ‘Princess’ for short?”

“If you must.” she said, waving a dismissive hand at him.

“What do you bring to this job?”

“Individuality, hope, forgiveness and a damn good batch of deviled eggs when we throw a potluck party.”

“I see… Where do you hope to be in another ten years?”

“On the moon, if they can ever get the space program up and running at full speed again. But I’ll only ride first class, mind you. Do you think that they have champagne flavored Tang?”

“What has this company taught you?”

“How to keep my head down, not get noticed and the best way to blame others for my own mistakes.”

“Between one to ten, ten being best, rate how well you fit in at this company.”

“For the purposes of this exercise, I will consider tie-dye green to be a number.”

“And?…” the interviewer asked, clearly waiting for a number.

Melissa sighed. “Somewhere between 8.5 and Pittsburgh.”

“If you had to identify with any creature, alive or extinct, on Earth, which would it be?”

Here’s the rule breaker, she thought. “A blue baboon.”

“And why is that?”

“Because they stand out.”

“Very interesting, we’ll need a few moments to consider your answers, Princess.”

They began talking amongst themselves almost before she left the room. Here comes the unemployment line, she thought to herself, passing the rest of the group to be interviewed that day.

“How bad is it?” a man asked her as she passed.

“An absolute nightmare.” she said, returning to her cubicle.

By the end of the day, the interviewers had made their decision. More than a few workers were escorted out of the office by security officers, carrying what little possessions they had decorated their cubicles with. A few left the interviewing office very pale, but with shaky smiles. They had survived this round of layoffs, but were unsure what the future might hold for them. Melissa tried to tell herself that it did not matter one way or the other. But inside she was shaking and sick.

They called her in last and she was certain that not only were they going to give her a pink slip, but also give her a nice white jacket and padded cell to go with it.

“Your answers were very… unique and honest.” the interviewer said. “We had a hell of a time trying imagine what you do here at the office.”

Oh, here it comes, Melissa thought. She braced herself for the worst, what she hoped that she had prepared herself for.

“We decided that your time here was a waste of your imagination and ingenuity. So we’ve decide to give you a position in management. You’ll be in charge of keeping morale up in the workplace. We hope that someone of your immense skill, having already survived the ‘trenches’, so to speak, will know what we need to keep things fresh and lively, so that productivity improves. Everyone knows that a stale workplace makes for a slow employee.”

“You’re giving me a promotion?” Melissa asked.

“Unless you want to stay working in the supply room for the rest of you career?”

“No, I think I’ll land on my feet soon enough.”

“That’s what we thought.” the head interviewer said. “Do you want your paycheck made out to ‘Princess’ or…?”

“Melissa Winnepo will be fine.”